


3 AM

by PansexualMoose



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Gwilym Lee - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 21:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PansexualMoose/pseuds/PansexualMoose
Summary: Based off of the trope: “The fire alarm went off at 3 AM and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear.”





	3 AM

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: Inspiration for this fic came from a post containing several tropes that it seems like no one was writing about. I was at work at the time, so I blurbed this little thing out on Microsoft Word, printed it out and brought it home to write. I understand that The Story of Us isn’t finished yet, and I am honestly not too sure when/if it will be. With this odd strike of sorts that is going on with readers and their lack of ability to reblog and promote us, writers, my morale is a little low. Not sorry about my honest opinion there. So, this is just something that I wrote up. I don’t know if there will be more parts or if this trope thing is going to be what breaks my writer’s block. Only time will tell. Until then, PLEASE REBLOG THIS WORK IF YOU LIKE IT AND WANT OTHERS TO READ IT. I myself am trying to get better at this. 
> 
> I am on Tumblr. (I don't know how to do one of those fancy link things, so my username is PansexualQueenDarling)

The screeching starts as a distant sound, a memory almost. Deep sleep consumes my body and I am unable to quite register what is going on.

The screeching grows louder.

Outside of my dreamland and my bedroom door, Zoe, my 2-year-old Pitbull, is scratching at the door. It’s her whines that bring me to reality. The screeching is the fire alarm. The BUILDING fire alarm. Which means it’s not just my flat iron trying to scorch my bathroom sink again. It means that there is a possibility that the actual building is on fire. That though breaks me out of my sleep and sets me into motion. I grab a sweater from the pile of clothes beside the bed, open the door and catch Zoe as she hurls herself into me, afraid of the loud noises coming from the hallway. (And they saw Pitbulls are a voracious breed….)

“I gotcha, girl. Wanna go for a walk?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm for her. At the mention of a walk, Zoe knows to go sit by the door and wait for me, but the entire time her ears are down, which means she doesn’t believe this is just a walk. She’s too smart. I manage to leash her and grab a pair of flip flops in about ten seconds before I am out the door. The screeching is worse in the hallway of the building and Zoe freezes on spot.

“Come on, girl. If this is a real fire, we gotta get outta here.” I tug on her leash a bit and she follows close. Once we are outside, I look around at the bodies of the other tenants. Mrs. Rash is outside with Cootsie, her calico cat, standing close to Richard, the maintenance man who gets to live at apartments for a decent price. He is rubbing her arm and keeping her clam, and I am thankful for that. Losing Mr. Rash to cancer had been the hardest thing I had to watch her go through. I nod to the two of them as I move to a spot away from the building to give Zoe a break from the noise. She seems to calm down a bit and sits on my foot, watching the building. From what I can see, there is no smoke or obvious signs of a blaze, but that could be because my glasses are still sitting on my computer. On my desk. In the apartment.

A wailing firetruck comes turning around the corner and Zoe scratches at my leg, fear in her yellow-green eyes. I kneel down to her level and pull her head to press against mine.

“It’s okay, girl. No one is gonna hurt you.” I try and speak to her as softly as possible, but the fire truck parks itself in front of the building with one final wail and I am pretty sure she is not solidly convinced. As I go to stand up, I bump my head against something firm yet soft at the same time. When I look at the said object, I see fabric…with distinct lines for support of–oh!

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” I stand up to my full height, but the person whose butt I just head-butted is still taller than me. When they turn around, I can feel the heat flare up my cheeks and I try to look anywhere else but him.

“You’re [Y/N], right?” He asks, his accent charming, alluring and all the other wonderful things that come from overseas. It takes me a second to form a coherent thought.

“Y-yes,” I stumble over my words, more heat running up my cheeks and to my ears.

“I’m Gwilym, from apartment four.” He points to the building that the firefighters are currently looking over. I nod, an acknowledgment of his words.

“I know. I live in two. Right across the hall.” I look down at Zoe as she noses at my leg as if she scoots me closer to the charming British neighbor.

“This must be the little one I hear every morning. She whines at the door when I leave for my morning runs. I think she wants to come with me sometimes.” Gwilym leans down to pet Zoe, and I go to warn him, but it’s too late. He is holding his hand out to her and I am about to watch my hot neighbor get his fingers bitten off by my dog. “That’s a good girl,” Gwilym’s voice is calm while Zoe sniffs him out. After a few moments, she is rolling around in the grass to offer her most venerable spot, her belly.

“Oh. My. God.” I am genuinely shocked at the fact that my dog, my abused rescue dog, who hates her male trainer and bit his leg, is offering her belly….to a stranger. Gwilym looks up at me through his circular glasses.

“What? Is there something on my face?” He moved his head around while still keeping a hand on my dog.

“Zoe hates men. Like…she bit her trainer at the shelter on the leg…she was abused.” I am still in shock over two things, but when Gwilym stood up, and I realized that not only was he in his boxers but that the rest of him was…fine, oh lord. I suddenly felt very dizzy.

“ALL CLEAR! TENNANTS OF BUILDING 614 ARE ABLE TO ENTER THEIR APARTMENTS. NO DAMAGE HAS BEEN SUSTAINED. SOMEONE-” The officer looked off to the side for a moment. “DECIDED THAT BURNING THEIR POPCORN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT WOULD BE A GREAT WAY TO GET THEIR MOTHERS ATTENTION. I CAN ASSURE YOU, SAID TEENAGER IS BEING REPRIMANDED AS WE SPEAK.”

“It was an accident!” A distant voice called. There were a few strangled laughs but mostly everyone just wanted to get back inside their apartments. I looked at Gwilym as he held a hand out to me, helping me stand before reaching down and patting Zoe’s head one last time.

“The two of you are more than welcome to join me on my morning run. I am sure this little lady would love it.” The handsome man locked eyes with my dog and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to drop my panties right outside or wait until we got back into the building.

“I–I don’t run.” I looked down at my thick thighs, rubbing together despite my sleep shorts, and my round, pudgy belly. Gwilym placed a finger under my chin and brought me back to his eye level.

“Perhaps we can make it a walk then? Stop at the coffee shop off of Georgetown Avenue?” Was this man asking me out on a date? I swallowed thickly.

“If you can make it around seven in the morning instead of five, I’ll accept your offer.” I stuck the hand that wasn’t holding Zoe’s leash out. Without a seconds hesitation, Gwilym took my hand in his and I felt his warmth. It was like a jolt to my system. My insides tingled and my breath whooshed out of my lungs.

“It’s a date.” He winked. As he turned around and headed back to his apartment, I couldn’t help but tilt my head and watch his ass as he walked away. Zoe barked and swatted at my leg, my queue to move so she could potty one last time before going back inside. I walked her around one, let her sniff and to her business for a moment before heading back into the building. It reeked with the bitter smell of burnt popcorn. As I turned the knob on my door, I couldn’t help but look back at the door to apartment four and wonder….

Would he think of me tonight as I’ll think of him?


End file.
